


Unstable Fusion

by Birdfluff



Series: Fusing Mercenaries [4]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Drabbles, M/M, fusion names are going to be dropped, the poly ship is strong in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 04:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5275820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdfluff/pseuds/Birdfluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>contains three different stories that I wanted to put together but couldn't think of what to write in between. I wanted to publish them together anyway.<br/>Sniper and Scout's first time fusing in a battle.<br/>Scout 'forgets' to take his sleep pills after the prior story and meets the consequences.<br/>During a rough battle for the RED team, the only two visually left is Medic and Scout. Medic begrudgingly asks him to fuse. Things don't exactly go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unstable Fusion

“Depth perception, pal, look into it!” Scout taunted as he kicked a bomb away from the newly captured control point. He wasn't counting but that was at least the tenth time he had killed BLU's Demoman. So far, this was a good battle for the RED team. There was one point left, it was behind the factory. Hearing something whistle towards him, instinctively he jumped sideways but unfortunately a tad too late. A rocket exploded at his feet, causing him to fly into a wall from the impact.  
He felt his back crack in dismay as he pushed away. Gripping his side with his free hand, he balanced his weight onto his quivering legs. His hand was getting wet. Great, he was bleeding badly and pain was shooting up his spine.

Trying to keep his eyes open, he jerked his head around to look for any sign of the doctor. He screamed his name.

No answer.

“Crap,” he muttered breathlessly, ready to turn around to find a medikit but instead bumped into... he wasn't sure, but the figure was huge.

He looked up and squinted, “Oh, Heavy, hey, you know where the doc is?”

“Last control point.”

The batter cast his eyes back over at the sign in front of them to try to remember where he was. He was loosing ounces of blood by the second he needed help fast and no one was giving him a second glance except Heavy. 

“Ey, ya don't think--”

The Russian wasn't there anymore instead he was replaced by a BLU Spy, who was not expecting him to turn around so soon. Reflexively Scout swung his bat with his free hand into the Frenchman's skull.

“... Ya better not 'ave a dead ringer on ya,” he let his back hit the wall once more to rest while his knees shook. 

Abruptly there was a loud crash from outside the BLU's building. Any living RED mercenaries ran back inside for cover. Medic being one of them.

“DOC WAIT!” The Bostonian yelled as loud as he could before having to sit down from his spinning head.

Finally he felt his skin and bones healing and his head ceasing to whirl. His vision had become clear to see how concerned the doctor was but not at him. He was facing the exit from which he came.

“What 'appened out there?” Scout stood up, feeling the over-heal kick in.

“Zhere's a fusion guarding zhe point.”

“Fun. Who is it now?”

“Flux.”

There was so many names for everyone's fusions it was difficult to remember which belong to who. He thought for a moment while the German was distracted.

“... Solly and Engie?”

“Ja.”

“Oh, frickin' perfect.”

Flux was one of the most dangerous if not unstable fusions. With soldier's enthusiasm combined with Engineer's machines, it is horrifying to be on the opposite side on that.

“They got those shoulder sentries up?”

“Ohh, vorse zhan zhat.”

“Even bettah,” he huffed exasperated, “What do we do? We can't just wait it out! Gotta weaken him somehow!”

“I know! I'm zhinking,” Medic barked back sternly.

It had been three months since the discovery of fusion which in turn made battling more exciting yet challenging, especially when it came to unstable fusions. Now, fusion on the field needed to be dealt with carefully. No one is allowed to kill a fusion, but only had to harm them enough to force them to unfuse. This is when the challenging part came to play where most of the merc put their heads together to figure out how exact to kill a fusion... without killing the two fused mercs in the process.

“CHAAAARRRGE,” a strong Scottish accent cried out behind them. It didn't take too long before the RED Soldier and Demoman fused, creating another unstable fusion, Dynamite. The fusion rushed back down the halls and outside into the brigade.

“Dummkopf,” Medic put his free hand to his head, massaging the bridge of his nose which knocked his glasses askew... which the batter found strangely.. He did not let himself finish the thought, removing his eyes off of the doctor. He found himself chewing on his lower lip again as he tried to come up with a plan.

“You know, if you keep doing zhat you're going to bust your lip open,” he stated blandly, “Actually, I am very certain I have told you zhis before.” 

“Yea, well, it's a habit, doc, it's kinda a hard thing to break,” he replied, only half listening to his words, then added with mockery in his voice, “Pretty sure I told you this before.”

The German's eyes narrowed, somehow keeping his patience in check, “Have you tried zhe rubber band trick?”

“Hell no, that'll look stupid!”

“Scout, it's commonly accepted, you von't look stupid.”

“Answer's still no. I'm gonna see how the battle's going.” the Bostonian swung his bat and had the end land on his shoulder with a small bounce as he pushed himself away from the wall and walked down the hallway before him. Before forgetting he threw one last sentence over his shoulder, “Thanks for the heal, doc.” 

Not long until he heard heels clicking behind him in pursuit.

Sensing two new bodies nearby, the metal door shuttered and folded upwards to reveal the outside world. The battle between two fusions was an absolute mess, metallic parts and gears scattered the field. They were on the ground wrestling, Flux's shoulder sentries firing at any part of his enemy's body. Dynamite roared and kicked him off which sent him into a wall. The BLU fusion pushed himself away with a smile glued onto his face. They looked like they were playfully roughhousing instead of fighting. 

Scout sighed dramatically. This fight, if not exciting, was going to carry on for too long. They were too evenly matched. The fight was going to last the whole game is someone doesn't intervene soon. He blinked. Maybe he should? Second rule after all was not to engage in a battle of two fusions unless you are a fusion yourself. The batter looked around at his options. Spy? Nope. Heavy? No. Medic? Hell nah. Engie? Yea, Engie.

The batter waltzed over to the relaxing Texan and prodded him with his bat.

“Yo, Engie! How you feelin about becomin' Speed Machine? ”

The recipient chortled, keeping his eyes on the fusion battle, “I don't think that's necessary.”

“What? Why? I mean we're pretty much at a stalemate 'ere.”

“Nah we ain't.”

“Your goggles fogging up? Do you see how evenly matched they are? This could go on forever!”

“It'll work itself out, in no time they'll wear themselves out and unfuse in a few minutes.”

Scout could never understand his teammates level of patience and optimism, “... Yeah, no, in the next century maybe and this battle'll be over by then. If you ain't gonna help, I'll find someone else.”

Engie let out a disconcerted sigh and shook his head, watching him heave himself up to the earthy platform on his left. “What an impatient little rabbit.”

The batter smiled at the sight of Sniper sitting on the ground, taking refugee behind the metal plates. A place for him to be away from the rest of the team and to hide from the unsportsmanlike like BLUs on the other side of the area who occasionally shot at him whenever he would peak out. 

“Ey there.” the younger man smirked down at the Aussie before knelt down to his eye level, “you wanna end this?”

Thankfully from the shade the metal plates gave, it hid the rifleman's flustered red face. They hadn't fused in a long while.

“I-I don't know, Scout, I--”

“C'mon it'll be quick and easy and we'll win in no time. We can easily outweigh 'im.”

Sniper rolled his shoulders in uncertainty. He took one final glance over the side of the plate at the fusions fighting and nearly had his nose shot off if his teammate wasn't there beside him to pull him back. With his shades resting on the edge of his nose, his eyes clearly showed how infuriated he was with the cockiness of the opposite team. 

“Alright, let's go.”

The Bostonian's grin couldn't get any wider. He helped his friend onto his feet, “Let's try not to get out in the open and end up dyin' ok?”

The marksman nodded.

Waltzing wasn't part of their routine anymore, their fusion dance had evolved much past that point as well as their choice of song to dance to was imbibed into their brains.  
Scout tapped his foot to the beat in his head and swiftly took the Aussie's hand, twirling him once before taking his other hand. Their dance started slow for the rifleman's sake. Sidestepping in a brisk manner with their clasped hand loosely swaying.

_There's a house honey, way across town  
People coming from miles around _

Their chosen song playing in head to keep the beat in time. Unknowingly Scout always audibly whispered the lyrics to himself. Sniper did not mentioned it though, more so, because of how concentrated he was on his movement. Although when he did notice, he kept it to himself; since his teammate didn't sing often, he felt as if this was the only time he could hear him do it. The batter's pipes weren't the greatest, but it was endearing.

The batter moved into him now as he stepped back in time with him. They stopped at the edge of the plate's shadow and in turn they switched roles with the Bostonian walking backwards now. Stopping again before they could fall off the ledge, the younger man took the lead and proceeded to circle a few times.

_We're gonna have a whole lotta fun  
We gonna greet the risin' sun _

After the circling halted at the third time, the Aussie took his hand and spun him once before the Bostonian stepped closer. Finally light engulfed their persons and Huntsman stood in their place. Ready to face anyone in his way, the smirking merc stepped away from his cover to face the opposite team who gaped at the third fusion. Strolling over to the in battle fusions, he nonchalantly placed a hand on Dynamite's shoulder and brushed him aside.

“Step 'side mate, I've got this.”

The unstable fusion shot words of venom in response, “HOW DARE YOU WE ARE--”

His smile faded as he glowered at his teammate, “Were you listenin' to me because I told you two to unfuse before I blow your brains out in the simplest way I could.”

Dynamite returned the glare with clinched teeth before begrudgingly obeying his threat. Huntsman watched to make sure the two had unfused and when they had, his attention turned back on his enemy with that smile returning on his features.

“Alright pal, we could do this the easy way or the hard way.” After his statement Flux's shoulder sentries beeped in unison and fired missiles above his head, knocking his hat off.

He flinched from the sudden gesture as his grin turned fierce, “Guess we doin' this the hard way.”

Flux chuckled, watching the RED fusion crack his knuckles and wind up and ready to intercept with a nice fist to the stomach. Except the RED merc didn't punch, instead Huntsman gave him a swift blow in between the legs and ended knocking the back of his head with his fist.

“CHEAP SHOT,” BLU Scout roared disapprovingly, blowing a childish raspberry. 

Unamused the fused merc removed his pistol from its holster and shot the enemy scout with a poison arrow to his skull. He huffed in disgusted, clipping the gun back onto his belt, “Are you lot gonna fight fair or just stand there like a bunch of morons?”

The BLU team stared at their dead teammate fall face first on the ground. Their Soldier cleared his throat and then blew his horn before charging to the other team with the rest in pursuit.

He gave out a single chuckle in approval. Finally he was threatening enough. He looked back at the BLU fusion who shockingly had not tried to pulverize him where he stood while he was distracted. At least the unstable fusion had some control. “Tch, you're still fused? Olright then, let's try to break you two apart huh?”

He clapped his hands against the fusion's shoulder's crushing his sentries from the brutal force and shoved him sideways onto the train's rails. Suddenly there was whistling and the fence doors opened. Huntsman's confidence shattered instantly. The train was going to run Flux over, fused mercenaries were going to die and it would be his fault. He had no idea what the consequences were but he didn't want to know now. The train moved without halting. He tried to move from the control point.

The BLU fusion swiftly kicked the train's head over and off the tracks. That.. was going to cost a lot to fix. Flux turned towards the RED fusion with a grin full of malice. He staggered back up and grabbed at his over sized wrench while Huntsman reached for his double pistols as he stumbled backwards. The showdown was just getting started.

“Victory,” The voice's words rang out. Everyone was... extremely confused. Huntsman blinked and finally looked down to noticed that he had inadvertently captured the last point.

He laughed awkwardly and gazed back up at his enemy, “Sorry to let you down, bud, but you two needed to unfuse anyway.”

Pointing his double pistols at Flux's person, the BLU merc growled and unfused with some difficulty. Once Soldier and Engie had separated, they were taken down immediately with one bullet from the prior guns.

“Nice job, but I was really lookin forward to fightin the asshole,” Scout's voice escaped from the fusion's mouth as Huntsman picked his hat back up the ground and placed it back on his noggin.

“True, although, I think it's better to have ended like this and not one of us dyin like he almost did,” Sniper replied as the fusion eyed at the derailed train.

“Yea that, I wasn't expectin' that...”

“We should unfuse now.”

“R-right, right.”

After light and flair they separated with ease returning to their original pose; their arms around each other. Opening their eyes and finding in one another's arms was still awkward for some mercenaries, Scout being in that category, even if Sniper was his good friend. It was just... weird to hold him like that. 

“Thanks for, uh, helping me there,” the young man coughed, pulling away. A lopsided smile plastered on his face.

The Aussie nodded and looked down at his arms when the batter walked away from him to join up with the rest of the team. His forearms throbbed longingly for that touch again. The only few times he got to have that touch is when they danced together. Scout's touch so firm but gentle against his hand and waist. When they first fused it was so riveting and amazing, they had become closer than he had thought to imagine. Being around him solely was wonderful. Honestly he couldn't remember how he fell for him this hard even so he was still waiting. 

He was waiting for his love to be rejected brutally by Scout's hands.

“Herr Sniper?”

The Aussie flinched and exited from his state of mind. Medic stood before him with a look of puzzlement and concern.

“Are you not feeling vell?”

And then there was the doctor who had seemed to metaphorically stolen his heart. He was fascinating-- To not enter back into his trance he merely looked over his teammate and responded, “Yea, I'm alright, doc. I guess I'm just tired from fusing.”

He wasn't lying. He definitely was breathing heavier. Medic simply nodded and patted him on the back, “Then do not push yourself too hard next time, bitte?”

“Will do.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Medic was ready to go to bed. It had to be past two in the morning. He muffled back a yawn and stretched out his back. He took one last glance over his desk to make sure everything was in order. Papers in their placement, check, pencils in the correct positions, check, Scout's medicine--

Wait. Scout was supposed to come in as usual to get his pills. What made him forget this time? The German doctor wrapped his brain to the day prior but could not seem to find a reason that was obvious. He was too busy doing his own thing. In fact, Scout had not talked to him much today. The young man must have busied himself quite a bit today to forget such an important pill. The doctor huffed, grabbing the round pill and exiting his lab. The batter usually had water in his room, no need to bring another bottle. 

Proceeding to open the door to the room where the young man was staying in, Sniper's room, his legs halted when he stepped inside. Any covers and pillows that had been on his bed were pushed or kicked off. His alarm clock was on the ground next to his capped water bottle. The batter was shifting restlessly in his sleep, occasionally grabbing at his shirt or the mattress. A forced scream from him finally brought the doctor out of his stunned trance.

Immediately he flicked the lights on and moved quickly to the young man's side, “Scout! Scout, wake up!”

The only response he got was a swift kick to his hip which hurt like hell. Grimacing he shook the Bostonian's body. When that didn't work, he gently slapped his face that was damp from tears, “komm, komm aufwachen!”

With his teeth gritted and his brows furrowed, he scanned his room for anything to get him up until he laid on eyes on the water bottle. He reached--

“Do-doc, I'm so sorry!”

Medic froze.

_… Sorry?_

Slowly he looked over at the young man clinging to his mattress.

“God.. oh God....Sni--, I can't... Fuck.”

He... he talks in his sleep...? Not a real surprise.

He shrieked as if he had been stabbed in the back which caused the doctor to finish his action. He grab the bottle, uncap it and splashed directly onto his face with water. Finally this woke Scout up with a gasp. He sputtered and loudly blew excess water out from his nose.

He cough a few times before looking over at his new company. He had never seen the doctor so horrified.

Quickly that scared expression turned into fury, “Schweinehund! Don't you dare forget to take your medication again!”

He flinched violently, shifting away from him, “S-s-sorry d-doc... t-t-today was k-kind of huge... I-I.. guess.. I..” 

He gave up on trying to talk. He couldn't stop shaking. His stomach swished around in an uneasy fashion. He swallowed hard and curled up. He was showing so much weakness but he didn't care. He was so confident in those pills that he thought he could go one day without them but now look what he had done.

Any anger washed away instantly by the sound of his confused, distant stuttering. Medic hushed him gently and sat down on his bed, “Ich bin hier. I am here.” 

Gingerly he put his hands on the young man's cheeks, wiping the water from his face and got a better look at his facial features. His eyes were red. His skin was pale and felt damp from sweat. He looked absolutely ill. His tongue clicked, “Du armer Junge. Du wirst jetzt gut zu sein.”

Scout had no idea what the man in front of him said but his tone and words were comforting and his hands were soft. He tried to concentrate on that as his head spun.

“Hier, you still need to take this,” the German handed him the pill as well as the water bottle and the Bostonian immediately obeyed and swallowed it down roughly.

“Herr Scout, you do not look well at all.”

“I-I'll be alright.” He tried to smile but that did not last long.

“Tell me your symptoms.”

He blinked water out of his eyes, “What?”

“What do you feel right now?”

“Oh, uh... kinda dizzy 'n, um” he paused to swallow, “really nauseated.. yea I don't feel so good.”

His eyes narrowed as his being filled with worry. He searched his room again with his eyes until he found a baseball on his side table. It wasn't squishy or flexible but it would do. He grabbed it and handed it to him, “keep this in your palms, make sure to play with it while I'm gone. Ground yourself by touching it. Concentrate on it. I'll be right back.”

“U-uh, yah.” He whimpered distantly as if he wasn't entirely present, but he obeyed the doctor. Gluing his eyes on his ball while he tossed it tenderly to each hand; somehow he kept his focus. True to his word the doctor came back with another pill, larger in size this time and blue.

“Take this too, this will help with your symptoms.”

Without hesitation he did as he was told and swallowed the medication. He did momentarily gag on the flavor afterwards, “j-jesus, doc, I-god” he gulped again and shuddered, “ew, shit, gross I tasted it... 'ow- 'ow long is it gonna.. you know?”

“Ten minutes at most,” he looked him over once more, “it would be best if you slept in the infirmary tonight.”

“N-no doc, you don't—gulp-- have to. I'll be alright, eventually..”

“Nein, you are my teammate, my patient, Scout, I need to keep an eye on you until that dosage kicks in. Even then I have no idea how you will react to the side effects.”

“D-oc, don't tell me you 'ave me another one of your illegal drugs.”

“Zhey are not--” he was done arguing. He huffed and simply picked up the young man bridal style.

The Bostonian squealed at the touch, “Doc..!”

Abruptly he didn't give anymore protests. He found himself close to his teammate's chest and in his arms no less. It was something nice to focus on that wasn't his stomach making disgusting swishes and swirls inside him. 

Obviously Medic noticed the pressure of the batter's head was against his chest. He didn't mind a bit.

 

The German placed him down in a gingerly way on the infirmary bed and felt his face, “Ach! You're burning up.”

Swiftly he strode to his desk to dig around and came back with a thermometer in his hand and a ball in the other.

“Open your mouth and keep zhis under your tongue,” Medic wasn't exactly sure how coherent his patient was, so he talked and gave him commands which he wordlessly complied. He then gave him a rubber and rather squishy ball.

“What is--?”

“Stress ball and do not talk please vhile having your temperature taken.”

He hummed and squeezed at the ball. It was nice to give him distractions but... the field medic looked a little too concerned with this situation. He was wondering around, gazing at everything. As if he was trying to distract himself or search for something he misplaced. Both of those seem super unlikely and strange for him.

After a few minutes Medic plucked the thermometer from his mouth. He squinted at the numbers and then put it down on the towel, “your temperature is normal... hmph.”

Again he placed his hand on the batter's forehead, then cheek, then neck. His heart rate was normal, albeit fast, but he had calmed down quite a lot. Scout really liked having his cool hands against his face. Before the doctor brought his hands back to his sides, the Bostonian seized his sleeve, bringing the doctor's attention onto him.

“C-could you keep that there?” he asked with a strange small smile as he breathed fitfully.

Medic stared at him, “... Vhat?”

“That fe..felt really nice. Could you keep your hand there?”

He was avoiding his gaze now, “Why don't I get you a rag instead?”

“No, your hand. I want your hand.”

Ok now he knew how coherent his patient was and on a scale of one to ten it was at a zero. Hesitantly he complied as he kept everything about his person sturdy and professional, including his face. He didn't want to become an absolute mess in front of his patient because he was really fond of him.

“Scout, your symptoms.”

“Uh, yea, uh, still don't feel great, I mean I don't feel like vomiting anymore and the dizziness is still dere but yea, don't feel great.”

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak--

“Your hands are so soft and nice and cool,” that cheesy lopsided smile was on his face now, “thanks, doc.”

He saw his eyes scan downwards at his night clothing, “even with pajamas on you look nice.”

No. Nope, he was finished. He removed his hand from his teammate's cheek and stalked away to the bathroom.

“E-ey where ya goin?”

“I am getting you a rag.” he shot a glance to his patient and noticed him trying to get up. He stopped and pointed at him, “Don't. You. Dare. Move.”

Scout whimpered in protest but said and moved no more. Medic entered his private bathroom and closed the door.

 _I thought you were a professional_ his own voice questioned him.

 _I_ am _a professional_ He rebuked, finding the nearest rag and running it in cold water.

_Oh ja the way you stare at your own incoherent patient is very professional. Your face is red dummkopf, look at you._

He did. His neck and cheeks glowed with a pinkish hue. Inwards he felt awful, in a flustered sense. Scout told him out of his feverish state that he looked nice, that his hands were soft, he gazed at him unblinking with that adorable crooked grin.

 _Being in love with a patient isn't what doctors do._ His inner voice barked.

_Bitte, I'm not a licensed doctor anymore._

No more was thought or said. He took the wet rag and returned to his lab and placed it down on Scout's head.

“That's nice but Doc, I--”

He glared down at him sternly, “Enough out of you. You should be sleeping.”

“Fine, alright..... can you at least hold my hand? Just in case?”

Medic heaved a long quiet sigh and massaged the bridge of his nose. He got a chair to place beside the bed and sat down... then took his wiry hand.

“Thanks, Medic.”

“Ja, ja...” 

He watched him as his patient closed his eyes and begin to breathe smoothly. Slowly he gazed down at their clasped hands and exhaled through his nose. He refused to release their touch until he was sure that Scout was asleep. 

Blinking hard he kept himself awake. Absentmindedly his eyes traveled around his lab until it fell upon his peaceful pigeons sleeping soundly in their large cage. He wished he was in his bed already.

The doctor eyed back down at Scout once more. He looked so peaceful now. No shivering, no hyperventilating, no screaming. He was perfect just lying there, occasionally mumbling. He felt his hand gently squeeze his before falling limp. Relieved Medic released his hand and got up from his chair. He stretched once more.

Hearing the young man shift and groan caused the German to freeze in his movement. Cautiously he glanced back to see him curled up. Still asleep. Medic started breathing again and quietly moved towards the doors.

Before turning the lights off, he took one last look over at his patient. There was nothing wrong now. Scout was fine.

He then shuffled out of the room and carefully closed the door behind him.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Scout breathed shallowly. He couldn't die right now, who knows how much time the respawn will take. He had already witness most of his team die before him and they hadn't come back yet. The BLU team was annihilating them. The bomb cart was getting too close too fast. Was he the only person alive right now?

The sound of clicking from a gun silenced that question. Turning to find the source of the sound he saw Medic now with his bone saw pulled out, slicing up an enemy Pyro before he could be set on fire. The Pyro fell to the ground as the doctor stood there panting. He watched the German look for any signs of a teammate. 

Their eyes met. Medic crossed over to him, looking out for any other BLUs that had scouted ahead just to camp them at spawn. 

“Hey, doc--”

“Scout, we do not have much time left. I regret saying this but fuse with me.”

The batter's eyes became as big as plates while he tried to register what his teammate had said, “D-didn't you say...?”

The doctor rolled his eyes at his reaction, “I know vhat I said before but zhis is an emergency, I have a full Uber, and I don't vant to lose zhis match. If ve can distract zhem long enough ve vill vin. Zhere is four minutes left on zhe counter. Fuse vith me, Scout.”

The Bostonian resisted no more and nodded, “Al... alright, man, let's do this then.”

They took each other's blood coated hands and the other placed on their shoulders. The doctor brought him closer, inadvertently increasing the beat of the batter's heart. They had never fused on the battlefield before, Scout had no idea what they could do. There wasn't a song even to...

“We need to keep this short. Follow my lead,” Medic instructed after noticing his confusion. They began stepping in a square, as if they were waltzing. The German guided his arms. The next thing Scout knew was that he was only inches away from his teammate's face. They held their arms above their heads and the other close to their chests, in similarity to polka. They circled, struggling to remain eye contact. The batter resisting from any further thoughts or recognize the familiar smell from the doctor. Finally Medic released his left hand and spun his partner around once with his right. For the finale he brought him back to his chest, their foreheads nearly touching. 

Light engulfed their bodies.

Bluntsauger stood in their place and grinned menacingly, bringing out his spiked bat and the other hand grasped onto the Ubercharge button, “Oh, hell ja.” 

He stepped out into the field, ready for action. A minigun whirled close by. The bomb cart came into view. Immediately the BLU mercenaries caught sight of the fusion and bullets fired. Clicking the button the fusion became engulfed in the RED charge. He became too swift for anyone to land a shot on him. He knocked most of the opposite team at the cart out of commission or into the walls and then shot at the remainder from his medipistol. The fusion gaze down at his handiwork before giggling.

“Naw, dead already? Things were just getting' good.” Bluntsauger put a foot onto the bomb and shove it backwards.  
Upon hearing the sound of respawn half of the RED mercenaries ran out of their base only to halt at the sight of the fusion. Bluntsauger glanced back and only smiled at their shocked expressions, his ego booming.

“Took you Schwachkopfs long enough. Go ahead marvel at my genius handiwork. I know it's fantastic,” he placed his hands on his hips, teeth bared and ready for praise.

The mercs seemed terrified at the fusion. The way he smiled so gruesomely. His booming voice. The way he stood. He was not a force to be reckoned with.

Sniper was one of the few mercs that respawned and... he didn't look pleased.

He stepped up to him with an unwavering stare. “You two need to unfuse.”

Only a few feet taller than the sniper, the fusion leaned down to meet his eyes and pinched his face playfully, “Aw, is the little Australisch jealous?”

Slapping his hand away, the rifleman stood his ground and held his glare which surprised the fused merc. “No, you two are clearly unstable together, you need to separate now.”

He brushed the concerned Sniper aside and shrugged, “Oh please, Herr Sniper. It is adorable to see you worry so much about me, but I can handle myself. Go back to your little crows nest now. We can handle things from here.”

Blatantly he ignored the rifleman and anyone else's warnings and brought his attention back to the BLUs ahead of him.

“Ready for a second beating?” He called out to them, “Come to me because I'm ready for you!”

Bluntsauger sprinted towards them at an alarming speed, batting them harshly away with his melee weapon. He was becoming reckless. Shaking off any bullets that hit him, his health was decreasing at an unhealthy fashion from the heavy fire he was taking. He knew he needed cover, a medikit, anything but he was too concentrated. He gave the enemy Heavy an extra shot from his medipistol and moved on to the Soldier who consistently blasted him with his Cow Mangler. Smacking him down with his iron spiked bat caused him to release his weapon and fall onto the ground with a sickening thud. The fusion laughed long and breathlessly. The battlefield was clear once more despite the body and blood. He was enjoying himself far too much.

“UNFUSE NOW,” He wasn't sure whose voice that was but he didn't care. He clicked the Ubercharge again when the remainder of BLUs crossed over the hill. Posing his feet to make it easier for him to dash towards them. He bolted.

“Two minutes left in the mission.”

Suddenly he felt his feet slip under neath him and fell face first onto the dirt, dropping his weapons reflexively. Gun fire was too close to his head... but it wasn't at him. Looking up he saw their Heavy and Demo protecting him from the array of onslaught that was aimed at him. Confused he tried to stand back up but was forced back down by a foot to his head.

“Unfuse now mate, you're pretty wounded.” An Aussie accent echoed in his ear.

The Ubercharge crackled and wore off. That was too fast. Why didn't it last longer? Why wasn't he healing? They haven't spent enough time fused together to know how their combined abilities worked.

He managed to move his head to gaze up at the one holding him down. Soldier at his legs and Sniper.

Unfortunately Bluntsauger wasn't ready to quit, “Bitte... all I will need is a medik--”

“Not while I'm here, you bugger.” the pressure of his foot increased slightly, “Unfuse. Now.”

“The cart is nearing the last check point!” The voice stated over the intercom.

“If you vant us to vin, I suggest you let me go,” his tone was consumed with lust for victory. Sniper was lucky he was on their team. By now his head would be rolling on the ground if he wasn't.

“Sorry but I'm not taking suggestions from an unstable fusion,” the marksman squatted down. His eyes could clearly be shown now that his glasses sat at the edge. He was pissed. At him. His silent stare at him spoke more than enough.

The fusion lost his glare, gazing back at him. His mouth resumed into a firm flat line. He huffed, unsatisfied, “... Fine. I vill unfuse.”

The rifleman removed his foot. This would be a perfect escape but Bluntsauger resisted that urge to run. Carefully he stood up and closed his eyes. Unfusing with some difficulty, the two bodies split apart after a flash of white. Medic and Scout laid motionless on the ground, groaning in pain. Keeping an unstable fusion for more than a few minutes takes an awful toll on the recipients' bodies. Relieved Sniper took them both into a firm embrace, astonishing the two.

“Y-you... alright, there, Snipes?” Scout stammered, wincing at the touch. 

“It's.. just nice to have my friends back in one piece.” he responded, his words filled with contentment.

Thankful that no one else could see how warm his face was at this moment, Medic cleared his throat, “Zhis is a very sweet gesture, Herr Sniper, but zhe, ah, ba--?”

The Administrator's voice flooded the area, “You've failed.” 

Suddenly the Aussie's embrace fell limp and his body fell backwards from the force of an arrow that had impaled into his skull.

“SNIPES!” Scout was totally ready to kick some ass if a Cow Mangler didn't pulverize him in that instant. His ashes fluttered uselessly to the ground. Sitting there, Medic became silent. Hesitantly he glared up at the BLU Soldier before him who winded his weapon as he grinned evilly down at him.

The next thing he felt was... nothing as his body vaporized.


End file.
